


how, i remember being

by merbunne



Series: fall in the hands of a greater unknown [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Sex, Boys Kissing, Hand Jobs, M/M, Nightmares, Oral Sex, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Doubt, Tragic Romance, can't really blame him honestly, i think we're all a little in love with shiro, shiro is a disney prince and keith is so taken by him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-25 12:56:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7533583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merbunne/pseuds/merbunne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It stabbed deep in his heart as his head tilted back. Shiro took to his skin like it’d been a matter of minutes -- not months or years -- since he last touched him. He was gentle but there still existed ferocity in the movement; even more apparent was the fact that he, too, understood what kind of time they were under. It couldn’t always be this way. Not like it was before. This could very well be all they had.</p>
            </blockquote>





	how, i remember being

**Author's Note:**

> So how about that Voltron reboot? I'm still knee deep in my multichap Captain America fics (which I promise will be updated soon) but I couldn't help but pause and write something nice for the Voltron fandom... and my fellow Sheith fuckers. Because god damn.
> 
> Title comes from "Beings" by Madeon.
> 
> Part of a series that will get its sequel... soon. Enjoy!

The noises were familiar. Ones Keith had become accustomed to in a matter of short moments (Weeks? Months? The passage of time was unclear).

On the other side of the wall, a body tossed and turned. The body, presumably, wept and shook, though he couldn’t quite hear those details. These were assumed from previous experience, from previous times that had kept him awake, listening. Eventually rising, eventually tending to. Going back to sleep.

This evening, he laid awake and it began sooner than expected. It wasn’t nightly, thankfully not so often. But not so sparse that he didn’t recognize a pattern. That would almost be too forgiving, and Keith had long realized they weren’t in the business of forgiveness. Not as paladins. Not as people.

He dragged himself from bed and his shoulders were heavy. Rigid, anticipating. An exhale. He moved to the hallway with resolve in his lungs, the same as always. The same as always. A routine he’d settled in. It was quiet and still -- the noises were louder but a distant hum settled calmly above. 

The hallways were blanketed in this… haze. He’d always felt disarmed when he walked around at night, which was more often and even separate of these noises. He did not sleep easily. Lightly and with too much on his mind, rest did not always come. If he closed his eyes, he was back in the desert. Alone, exploring mountain tops and searching for purpose, except this time the purpose was in sight… though he wondered. He wondered.

But it would not be answered tonight. Just as it had been the night before.

A few short steps and he was at the door of the source. He bit the inside of his cheek, steeling himself before he burst in. The body inside did not notice; he thrashed and, yes, wept. Keith had been correct. He shook and mumbled nonsense, his breathing erratic and unbalanced. Several choice words made themselves known, as they sometimes did --  _ stop, I’m not, please _ \--

“Shiro!” 

His voice held urgency. And Keith did worry -- or another word deeper. Desperate to silence the transgressions and end what mental battle had begun like it had so many times before for reasons that were more powerful than worry.

That realization had come sometime upon his rescue. But he hadn’t indulged anything further. Neither of them could afford it and he wouldn’t dare entertain the burden upon their leader who already had too much. Too much.

This wasn’t an indulgence. It was necessity.

When his voice wasn’t enough, his hands touched against his forearm. His shoulder. He gave pressure and a shake, feeling the body quake underneath his fingertips. Power radiated just beneath the surface; he was built like a weapon. Keith wondered many things, this among them. He could make what he thought were calculated guesses, but that did not equate to actually knowing what had changed Shiro.

What caused these terrors.

And he hadn’t ever wanted to know something more in his life. Not even about himself, his origins. The growing fate that tangled the two of them, the other three, all of the paladins and the universe in one.

It didn’t compare.

Another shake. “Shiro, wake up!” More pressure. Beneath him came a scream strangled in a sob. He shouldn’t be making these noises; Keith felt sick. It didn’t suit his confidence, his steely yet kind leadership. These dreams absorbed him and made him something he wasn’t.

His heart was withdrawn, almost afraid to hear any more. But it was always like this. He pressed forward, unrelenting and too headstrong for his own good. Hopelessly devoted, even. 

“It’s me! Shiro, it’s Keith!”

Grey eyes reentered the world.

White hair stuck to his forehead, a pale sweat making his expression sallow and uncharacteristic. He resembled a shell; Shiro was not this man, instead this tortured portrait of someone who had sought to change the world. Keith remembered that man and saw him in the daylight. In the nighttime, he acquainted himself with a stranger.

“Shiro.”

“Keith?” He fumbled blindly, reaching for the hands that still held onto him. Keith moved, both around one of Shiro’s larger hands. The flesh one, purely by circumstance. A hesitant squeeze. He squeezed back.

“I’m here.”

“I-- ah, I’ve…” The free hand raked his hair, locks of white mussed as they fell back into place. “Fuck. I’m sorry--”

“Don’t apologize.” He did this every time. And every time, Keith dismissed him.

“Keith… please.” His tone was small. Smaller than the weight of his expression, his eyes, his smile. Everything. “I can’t keep--...” He trailed off.

“Stop.”

And for a while, they said nothing.

Keith had found a pattern in soothing circles along Shiro’s knuckles. The other was still, receptive as his head ducked and his eyes closed. Somewhere farther away, the hum. Machinery. Keith could almost fall asleep like this if not for the reality of their uncomfortable position crammed onto his bed. Similar to something long ago--

He remembered himself and shifted. He did not see Shiro’s eyes, but felt his gaze on him in the movement. He did not let go of his hand immediately, but in time, just before he spoke, their grasp separated.

“How do you feel?”

“... Better.” And he sounded it. But even his response sounded like… settling? --

To dwell was an indulgence.

Keith paused. Considering. “... I should go.”

“Oh, well.” Shiro’s voice dropped. He didn’t really continue, more unsure than before.

Something crept at the edge of him. With a swallow, he began to leave, taking Shiro’s silence as the invitation. It was better that way.

To dwell was --

“Keith, wait.” Shiro now grabbed his arm, facing him. They both stood, dull light from the fixtures on the door outlining the crest of Shiro’s nose. His scar; lower, his cupid’s bow. His touch was gentle, perhaps realizing the way Keith would seize upon being held even in the smallest way.

His heart was dull tremors. But Shiro meant no harm. Shiro, too, shook.

Keith turned to look as Shiro dropped his hold. 

“... ...Could you--” Another hand through his hair. “... I’ll fall asleep… ...if you’re here.”

He watched him. Reading his face. Shiro’s gaze was unrelenting yet softly looking back. It was a look that spoke apologies, though Keith had already told him none were necessary. He was simply not aware of how deeply that ran. Even this was no cause for apology.

He wanted to stay. This wouldn’t be the first time. And he didn’t want it to be the last, but--

To dwell was--

His mind drilled familiar motions. He’d thought them previously disposed -- or at least put to rest. Forgotten in light of separation, as was the proper thing to do. But they existed in the color of his eyes, like stormy seas he’d read about in books. He’d never seen an ocean before; he imagined it would look a lot like his gaze. Waves gentle against the shore, as gentle as his gaze could be.

He reached for his hands again, flesh and metal connecting, brief hesitation before he stepped forward and closed the distance. He had to look up at him -- god, when had he gotten so tall? -- his chest against his abs. Upon contact, Shiro tensed. Keith had, as well. The sea and the sand.

“Shiro.” Because he had to ground himself by speaking. Making sure it was real, that his mouth still moved, voice still worked. He was quieter. Careful.

“Keith.” A mirror of him. Taller but still much the same. Soft. Unsure, but rigid certainty that this, somehow, was correct. “I’m so--”

They had done this before.

Keith gently pulled. Shiro followed.

His lips were like flower petals.

They had done this before. But it felt new every time. Especially now, like a lifetime had passed since they last operated as a single unit, yet always destined to circle back. Find each other again, fit together just the same. Shiro relaxed into him and Keith reached onto the tips of his toes to meet him anyway. The known comfort, like a sigh of relief, made their touch easy and desperate -- in seconds, Keith felt something on his cheek and realized it quicker than he could process and react. Tears.

Shiro did not break -- never did, but he was laden with cracks.

Pulling away -- reluctant on both sides -- Keith stared up. The tear track had become muddled when it met with Keith’s own cheek, though another began at the corner of his other eye. His brows had come together, shoulders shaking. Why did he try to hold it all together, even now?

Fingertips couldn’t chase it away, couldn’t remove that expression from his face, but the shorter would reach up and swipe his thumbs under his eyes. His glance flickered. Keith couldn’t see him like this; it felt so wrong--

“I missed you, K-Keith.” Shiro’s voice was watered down. His hands took to the fingers that caught his tears. Keith’s attention returned. “Every day I was… was there. I thought-- I hoped, I--”

“Me too.” He said it before it even crossed his mind. Written in his chest like it’d been there all along.

Maybe that was enough. Shiro shuddered with a sob and before he could try to bite it back, Keith’s smaller frame had circled around his. Talking was insufficient. And Shiro not just in his eyes really was like a storm on water; thrashing waves. Dark and affected from normal solace. Keith held him tighter, absorbing his quiet but fervent tears. 

It wasn’t fair. He wanted to know what made this happen -- the nightmares had come from something real. What was it that troubled him so often?

Not now. It wasn’t the time. But Keith burned and wanted to eliminate the source that had caused this. With Voltron, with each and every paladin, his lion, his own fucking hands--

“Keith,” The damaged voice in his arms.

His brain took pause.

Shiro released and, before Keith could properly answer, crushed his lips to his again. It was not as chaste, not as careful; Keith gripped his body like this were the last time they could really touch like this.

And, well. What if that were true?

It was like Shiro knew it, too, for he responded in kind. Shaking fingers found the hem of Keith’s shirt, slipping underneath to appraise the lean lines of his torso. Keith shivered but leaned into it, remembering an old feeling as he did the same. Shiro’s back was all muscle; he passed over scar tissue, rough patches that hadn't been there once before. He was still just as solid as before, but, god.

He had been stripped of humanity. That’s what he’d heard, what he’d  _ seen  _ in brief flashes during his rescue. Shiro had only shared what was necessary -- his body proved there were many details missing. The scarring. His skin, his hair. His arm, of course, the most obvious part of it all.

Keith forced these away. It was still Shiro. Still Shiro who held him, pressed to him desperate and wanting and trailed his lips against his cheek, his jaw, his neck--

An exhale and they were back home. Home somewhere before the Kerberos. Before Voltron. They were just Shiro and Keith, in love and unconcerned with a greater universe than that.

Wouldn’t it be nice.

It stabbed deep in his heart as his head tilted back. Shiro took to his skin like it’d been a matter of minutes -- not months or years -- since he last touched him. He was gentle but there still existed ferocity in the movement; even more apparent was the fact that he, too, understood what kind of time they were under. It couldn’t always be this way. Not like it was before. This could very well be all they had.

Robbed of another breath, Keith ducked away only to grab at Shiro for another kiss. If he was honest -- not that he’d ever talk to or had talked to anyone about what they’d done -- this was his favorite part. Shiro’s mouth was probably the best thing in any galaxy. He liked to tilt when he kissed, Keith at the receiving end of every angle. He liked to sigh into kisses, a gentle hum as he did so. If it only ever had to be kissing, god, Keith wouldn’t care. He’d be overjoyed. He’d spend a lifetime kissing Shiro if that was all he had.

And now it was better than great. Shiro kept true to his habits and sighed; Keith sighed, too, pressing nearly his entire weight on the other in an attempt to be closer. Their shirts were still ridden up and disheveled -- as he pushed, he felt warm skin just under his chest. Shiro held him tight, hands wandering to his waist. The metal of his right was cold. He didn’t quite mind it as he should.

It didn’t change who held him. Who moved to guide him back onto the small bed and released their kiss only to flop him onto his back. Because it was all still Shiro, every part, and no amount of Galra could take that away. Not again, at least. 

He wouldn’t let it.

Shiro crawled over him and Keith hooked his arms around his neck, staring up. Their breathing was the only noise in the room.

“Missed this,” Shiro exhaled.

Keith nodded, unsure of what to say. Too many thoughts piled up all at once, so many things he wanted to tell him--silence. Like his brain had shorted out on everything by touch. He wanted to relearn his face, his body. Everything about him.

One hand remained at the back of his neck while the other wandered. He thumbed his scar, still raised and pink with angry flesh. He slipped under his eyes, puffed from tears and dark circles of exhaustion. He cupped his jaw, more square and set than before. His collar, his shoulder; Shiro let him do it all, watching with soft eyes before eventually moving to take his shirt off completely.

He was definitely still himself, if not more… cut.

And he laughed, a light and almost foreign noise, as Keith continued to touch and stare openly. The red paladin took pause, his eyes full as he listened. He’d managed to keep himself in one piece for both of their sakes until this point, but perhaps his laughter was enough.

He trembled but did not give way. He just liked that noise so much, having gone so long without it, unsure if it still existed, even, unsure of so many--

“Hey.” 

Keith blinked up at him. Shiro’s brow had grown knit again.

“Is this--” Shiro trailed off, dipping his head as his gaze fell to the sheets around them. “Keith, it’s been a while. And I’m…  if you’re not… comfortable--”

He still worried?  _ Still?  _ It was almost endearing.

“No,” Keith said quickly, wanting to rob him of that expression entirely. “No.”

Shiro closed his eyes. “Are you--”

“Yes.” The hand at his neck hooked to pull him down. To make sure he understood, completely and irrevocably, exactly what Keith wanted and refused to walk away from. 

His heartbeat was in his ears again. A new swell of nerves.

“Please… touch me.”

And that was all it took.

Shiro was a word greater than happy to oblige with such verbal confirmation, and any ounce of previous hesitation had been gone with the acceptance thereof. He sunk low to Keith’s abs, pushing his shirt up and kissing each sloping line of muscle, each curve and corner. Keith was not nearly the mass Shiro was -- more lean and thin -- but Shiro managed to find every carve in his skin and glorify it more than he thought he could ever deserve.

Because that was the kind of lover Shiro had always been. Quick to give, gracious to receive. Almost too focused on what the red paladin wanted, instead.

Keith squirmed and it was almost selfish. His hands followed Shiro’s sides until he’d moved too low to properly touch, ghosting on his hair before that, too, was out of touch. White bangs swept when he dipped to kiss a place -- he’d moved low enough that he danced on the edge of his waistband and a new noise came from Keith’s throat. Shiro paused -- Keith shook away embarrassment with the good faith in Shiro’s softened expression -- and continued with a practiced hand to slip his pants lower on his body.

If verbal hadn’t been enough, physical approval would certainly seal the deal at this rate. As Shiro cupped his hardening erection, Keith made the noise again, much more affected this time. 

“Mm.” Shiro hummed, cupping again and raising his eyes to the other. “I love that.” His voice was sinfully soft, almost shy but not quite so. Simply… enamored. Awed by… Keith? Which humbled Keith to realize even as his mind filled with a warm fog.

Someone like him, to be loved by someone like Shiro...

The black paladin slipped his fingers beneath thin fabric wet with anticipation; his hand was on Keith completely, flesh to flesh, and the other moaned before snapping his mouth shut. Even as it was just Shiro, even as the threat that anyone else could hear was so far away in his mind, Keith was hopelessly embarrassed by every noise he ever made. But something about Shiro’s expression, then, encouraged him to continue, to twist into his movements and respond in kind. To make him feel the way Keith felt, being touched by him.

Shiro adopted a rhythm and Keith was already helpless, his hips moving with it and attempting to create more friction. He threw an arm over his eyes, allowing himself more free noises, pleased to hear Shiro hum in response and occasionally groan back. The call and response… it made him warmer, almost too hot for his own skin. Desperate to peel away and lose himself completely on the touch. 

Just when he’d grown satisfied with his hand, content to let him keep doing only that, Shiro must’ve leaned down because suddenly there was his perfect mouth tonguing just under the head of his erection. 

Oh. Yes, he had missed that, too.

A cry startled from his chest, Keith bit his lip, face buried further into his arm as Shiro opened up and took him whole. “Fuck, Shiro…” He shuddered, and the male in question exhaled through his nose, a gentle moan around his dick. Fuck, indeed. It was almost too much.

But Shiro persisted, dragging his tongue along the shaft and twisting at the base. Keith felt every part of himself shake, holding back his lower body so as not to choke Shiro with desperate thrusts into the warmth of his mouth. Because that mouth of his. God.

He couldn’t think straight, not that anything mattered but what Shiro did and the fact that it was Shiro who did any of it to him. Somewhere farther in his subconscious, Keith longed to be more eloquent, instead lost in his own babbling of Shiro’s name and mixed expletives. This was better than he remembered. Shiro was something else.

Remembering enough of himself, his hand managed to grab a hold of Shiro’s bangs. He didn’t pull, simply holding on; as he peaked out from his arm, stormy eyes looked up at him while still mouthing his dick and fuck,  _ fuck,  _ fuck--

“Shiro, I’m--” He cut himself off with a moan, not quite losing his grip but close. Close. Shiro seemed to know enough, as he moved faster with his tongue and groaned around his dick again. Close. Close--

With the smallest sense left, Keith shuddered in a cry and tried to move Shiro away from having to taste the finish, but Shiro kept himself close. It stuck to his face, dripped onto his forehead and nose, his mouth, just below his left eye. Keith hadn’t felt him replace his mouth with his hand but he pumped idly, earning another whine from Keith as the last of his climax left him. As his brain caught up with the event, he could only wonder how Shiro still managed to look like perfection covered in his  _ cum _ of all things. Picturesque. Flushed, a smile on the brink of his lips. 

Not everything was meant to make sense.

In breathless silence, Shiro met his gaze before reaching for his discarded shirt to wipe at his face.

Keith watched him with guilty eyes, having taken off his own shirt to try and offer it up. “Sorry.” Because it was gross, despite how attractive it was, as well.

“No,” He was muffled by his shirt, having rejected Keith’s. When he released, he was grinning, licking the corner of his mouth where the last of it was left. That image alone might’ve been enough to make Keith hard again. Unfair. 

“It’s nice.”

Too much.  _ Completely  _ unfair.

“You’re disgusting,” He mumbled, but his voice had no fire and then he was smiling, too. A distant version of himself thought previously left behind.

“Maybe.” The other purred, leaning down to kiss him. Normalcy.

He tasted himself and it wasn’t disgusting at all. In fact, the fire that had burned in seeing Shiro covered with him only ignited brighter as they kissed. And it was growing more comfortable than they began, like the edges were softer and lessened the strain of time to replace it with pleasant memory. He wondered, in the sensation of it all, if they were really allowed to feel this way right now. Or at least a thought farther away wondered about it, because his mind was swept back up into Shiro, back into his tongue and his skin and everything that didn’t need a greater answer.

All he had to do was touch him. 

Keith, renewed and whole, put a hand eagerly onto the curve of Shiro’s erection. The other hissed in exhale, pushing into it. He knew Shiro would be satisfied in simply giving Keith a finish as he did, but another remembrance peppered Keith’s mind. Something bathed in filth as well as innocence; something he could say defined Shiro in his memories amongst moments of kindness and valor.

An image of his face. He thought of it as he released the kiss and unbuttoned his pants, almost scrambling in his motions. Above him, Shiro laughed, gently pushing his hands away and doing the work himself. He squirmed out of his pants and Keith was back on him, insistent. Shiro sighed and, god, it was almost like a moan in the way it made Keith swelter.

His fingers wrapped at the base and with a small tug, Shiro shuddered again. Keith felt his tongue stick out around his own grin; this was satisfying. Beyond that, even. They had to come up with another word, probably, to detail exactly how this felt. And he remembered. He remembered so much what it felt like to make Shiro act like this. To make him tremble and and shiver and smile down at him just like he did now.

Another tug. Shiro exhaled and shifted to steady himself. Keith continued his work and thumbed at the precum that had dripped and made a mess of things. He picked up a steady rhythm and reduced Shiro to a low groan; his mouth clamped shut and Keith grinned again. To think he attempted to be such a man of composure even now. Even like this.

“Ahn… Keith.” 

Fuck.

It wasn’t like before. But he didn’t mind so much in realizing it could be different and still be good. Great, even -- being with Shiro and calling it that still felt like an understatement. He closed his eyes and could reimagine this place. They were younger, less jaded. There was much less to worry about.

But things like simple touch and joy and laughter… these were things that still existed. He saw them. He heard them.

Prophecy and higher purpose didn’t take them away. Didn’t discount them. Maybe a night after this one wouldn’t be possible, but. As long as it existed right now, god. Keith would do anything for that.

His mind’s eye spoke up. He shifted, looking up at the other.

Shiro reached down to trail his hand along Keith’s exposed chest. It was an idle motion, wrapped up in what Keith did to him, but the red paladin shivered anyway, pleased. Keith’s pumps grew less severe, touching his free hand to Shiro’s forearm as he thought out loud. 

“... Shiro.” 

The other blinked down at him, his expression still warm though more focused than before at the sound of Keith’s voice.

“... I want--” He cut himself off, suddenly embarrassed to ask. Despite knowing the most likely answer. Because old habits really didn’t go away in a year and some months.

Shiro, innocent he was, simply tilted his head toward him. “Is something wrong? Do you want to stop--”

“No! No.” He shook his head. “I want… more.”

“More?”

“Of you.”

The confession was met with a sparkle in Shiro’s eyes. Starlight in his smile, sheepish but so kind. Keith felt a weakness in his heart looking at it, staring so directly into his sunshine.

“Are you sure?” He asked gently, as if to say  _ you could take it back. _

He was too good. Keith’s mouth folded to a thin line.

“--Fuck me, Shiro.”

And the other gaped, mouth slightly parted. But within moments practically dove to kiss him, pressed flush body to body in a flurry. He was so warm  _ \--  _ and the heat felt newer. Keith moved himself away from his cock to wrap around him again, a hand to his back and pulling him inward, closer,  _ closer. _

Shiro pulled away first, but didn’t quite release him. Their noses touched.

“I don’t have--”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Keith. It’s unsafe.”

The red paladin’s expression soured. How did he get stuck with the only man in the known universe that would refuse to have sex like this? “You’re safe and I’m safe. It’s not a big deal.”

“... I mean, yes, but--”

“I can’t get knocked up--”

“Don’t say it like  _ that- _ -”

“It’s fine.” He pecked his mouth, ending the dispute. “... Please.” Perhaps too earnest. A flush burned his cheeks.

Shiro paused, mulling it over. With wordless acceptance, he easily pushed Keith to his back on the bed, reaching for a compartment beneath them. A small bottle of, presumably, lubricant was supplied from his reach.

“... Where--”

“Medicine cabinet.” Shiro said simply. Neither of them really had to ask  _ why  _ he’d found and kept it by the bed _ ;  _ meanwhile, Keith’s mind wandered with an idea of Shiro twisted up in his own ecstasy, using the contents of the bottle--

The other touched him. He was lost of thought completely.

With a single finger at first, he met Keith’s eyes before he opened him up. A strangled groan left his throat and he covered his mouth, squirming. This was always the weirdest part. Something he couldn’t get used to when it felt so invasive. His eyes squeezed shut -- he felt Shiro grab his hand -- and he exhaled harshly. After a few thrusts he relaxed and a second was introduced. But it was getting easier, easier to shift into the moves Shiro made and receive them with soft moans under his breath. Shiro hooked his fingers and he melted, crying out.

He reached almost blindly, then, grabbing for Shiro’s arm. “... Now you.” He managed, voice a shudder.

Elaboration wasn’t necessary.

Shiro kissed him quick, pulling his fingers out and moving himself to loom over him. Keith anticipated, eyes closed again; when he didn’t feel anything new, he opened, looking up.

It wasn’t the same. But he recognized that face.

Shiro stared at him openly, the way his legs spread and his hair fell into his eyes and piled around his collar. It was getting longer, longer than Shiro probably remembered. He felt so exposed, yet wasn’t nearly as embarrassed as he maybe should. Because Shiro looked at him like he were the most precious object in the universe. Like the reality wasn’t that they had greater things to care about. To strive for.

Like they could really just be in love and that could be all. If only for this moment.

And that was what remained the same.

It clicked in his head, the one remaining detail that had never actually changed. The evening had dissolved in a rollercoaster of doubt and happiness and some mix of the two. Bittersweet, he could call it -- highs and lows that honestly made him sick. And all the while, he thought too much. Wondered too much. Dared not to ask despite the way the questions grated at him like a fucking serrated knife.

But Shiro’s expression held weight. Enough to crush Keith and suffocate in a way he would gladly accept, were it literal. He was the only one who could ever do such. Damning and beautiful all at once.

Just like so many years ago. With a blink of an eye, he was truly back during that moment, in the stillness of their training base. A dark figure that sought to love him and whisper nothing but that.

Even if it wasn’t built to last now, Shiro still loved him. He’d never stopped.

And how could Keith afford to?

Clear in his lips, his hands, in the heat of his eyes as he hovered over Keith and gently pried him further apart. Keith thought he saw the edge of the realization, like it had passed between both of them simultaneously.

“Ready, Keith?”

His heart was ready to burst.

He nodded, reaching out to touch his forearms. Warm skin. “Yeah.”

Shiro entered him following permission. He was slow -- always very slow, careful almost to a fault -- but Keith still cried out, the feeling invasive despite the prep. But whereas Shiro began to hesitate, he dug his nails into his arms. Encouraging him further. It was worth the way it burned at something deep in his chest.

“Nngh, fuck, Keith…” Shiro was an affected whisper above him, reacting to the tightness as Keith seized around him with each movement forward.

A familiar bead of sweat started at Shiro’s temple as he was about halfway through. Things familiar to Keith that made him even harder as he noticed them for himself. Among others came the way Shiro’s grip remained gentle on his thighs, the wavering quality of his voice as composure betrayed the fact that all of this made him quake and tremble. He looked up and Shiro’s eyes were closed.

“More.” He hissed, moving himself onto Shiro’s cock and moaning as the contact deepened.

Soon he had filled Keith completely; the final push, generated both from responding to Keith’s demand and Keith’s own impatient movement, caused the red paladin another cry. But it was less pain, this time. More raw pleasure that he’d certainly missed somewhere far in the back of his mind. He pulled back -- Keith shuddered -- and moved forward again. A rhythm developed the same way Shiro had been with his mouth moments earlier: firm and methodical. Efficient. He could almost laugh at how stupid that sounded in relation to an act so natural and uninhibited, but Shiro somehow maintained almost all of his leadership personality even like this.

They began to rock with one another as Keith received Shiro’s thrusts and fought against them. Each time Shiro brushed the edge of  _ the  _ spot and each time Keith moaned and pushed harder for it. It was competitive and romantic all at once, manic but overwhelmingly sweet. Shiro leaned forward and Keith rose up to kiss him, moaning into his mouth unexpectedly and earning a sigh from the other.

And this was an addiction. The taste of his kiss as he overtook him. His body in and on him, fighting to get deeper, closer, somehow  _ more  _ despite how impossible that may be. If there was to be someone else, anyone else, it would start and end with Shiro.

Where Keith ended, Shiro began. Cyclical beings that could hardly exist without the other.

They released but Shiro pressed into his shoulder, scattered kisses and nips. “‘M-- Close,” Shiro managed in between, a groan at the corners of his words. That made two of them.

Keith shivered and ran his fingers through his hair, a mess of noise as Shiro handled him. “Fuck,” He whined. “F-fuck, fuck, Shiro--”

It was too good to go too much longer. Harder to maintain any sense of control. Not that he could really say he’d had any of it following the moment Shiro first kissed him that night, but enough was left that he knew he was slipping and losing it fast. With Shiro picking up the pace, it would only get worse -- better. Better. So much  _ better-- _

Shiro mouthed around his collar and he arched his back. “There--gh, Shiro--”

Closer and closer and closer and close enough--

Another whine and he finished; Shiro kept into him even as he sunk forward and pressed their foreheads together. He shuddered and Keith felt him seize up inside of him, releasing with a sharp exhale and curling inward. Even following the peak, he pulled himself out of Keith only to pull him into his chest. He rose and fell heavily; they were slick, warm, skin to skin.

Keith buried into him and was content to live there forever. It smelled like sex and safety and it was filthy but who the fuck cared? Shiro wanted him there, nosing against his hair with lazy kisses. The only noise between them was the sound of heartbeats growing gentle once again. Relaxing to a plane more human than before.

For a long time, they said nothing. What more needed to be said? Keith focused on the pattern of Shiro’s breathing as it evened out. The shiver as their shared skin cooled with the sweat and he reached for the blanket for the two of them. They curled onto their sides, limbs tangled and he could drown in this, all of this. Shiro kept on him, solid and sparkling with a smile and implication Keith perhaps didn’t deserve. He watched his face and found himself compelled to cry. To scream if this was it.

Was it?

Acceptance hadn’t come in any part of this night. He’d held onto the possibility that it didn’t have to, despite how naive he knew that was. He wanted to be wrong. So wrong.

They were on the cusp of an ending. He’d be robbed of this, all of this--

“Shiro,” He spoke before he properly could stop himself. “Shiro, is this… what is this?”

But Shiro only kissed him -- his forehead, his nose, his cheeks.

Keith closed his eyes. The feeling of his lips, flower petals slipping from the stem.

His own tears.

  
  
  


 

Keith did not remember falling asleep.

He rose up so suddenly, fast enough that his head spun. This was his room. He’d definitely been--

Shiro. He looked around to find himself alone. Disappointment was a bitter taste, thick in the pit of his stomach as he ran a hand through his hair. If it were a dream, if it were a mistake… wouldn’t it just have been the best one he’d ever had? 

He wouldn’t allow himself any more time to dwell. He’d known this ending. He’d experienced it a million times in their single evening together but maybe had wished it wouldn’t be true. Wished that the universe could wait just a few more days. A few more hours, even, if it meant it could go any longer.

Ridiculous.

It was time for their morning briefing. Allura would be cross if he were late (though even when late he always managed to show up before Lance) and the day would be difficult enough to bear without that right at the start. He pulled himself from bed, readied himself and slipped out the door.

The usual soft hum was his only company. Perhaps he was early, or the rest of the paladins had already gone ahead. He hadn’t checked the time and hardly cared to know. The hallway seemed so much bigger, so much emptier--

He turned a corner and there stood Shiro.

Realizing Keith’s presence, he pushed away from the wall, looking at him with warm eyes.

Fuck.

That wasn’t fair.

Keith recomposed from surprise, averting his gaze. “Morning.”

“Morning.” Shiro said easily. 

Keith passed and wanted to disappear. How could he be so casual? Acting as if nothing had happened, like it hadn’t mattered to him, making the wound deeper--

He stopped.

Shiro touched his arm.

Humming from above. Machinery and them.

When he turned his head, Shiro had moved closer. A stormy sea.

Keith wanted to melt. To die, even. To get away if this would become some disappointing rejection speech--

But Shiro only kissed him -- his forehead, his nose, his cheeks.

Keith closed his eyes. The feeling of his lips, flower petals slipping from the stem.

His own tears.

“You wanted to know.” Shiro whispered into his hair. 

“It’s forever, Keith.”

And he smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> Rebloggable version [here](http://mameido.tumblr.com/post/147670223536/title-how-i-remember-being-part-one-of-the)!!! Comments and kudos are my life energy. xoxo


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